I just want to be me
by I-Get-Bored
Summary: Harry is having a dreadful summer, his uncle won't stop beating on him and his aunts hellbent emotionally destroying him... and Dudleys just a mean guy. And what's snape doing in his garden... harry/snape friendship? No slash, abuse warning. R
1. Chapter 1

_**I know that there Is so many Harry gets abused & Snape's comes in and saves the day fics but I really think that I could give a good shot at one! Anyway, everyone has their own unique idea about how Harry could have treated, and what each Dursley's reaction is. So I don't think it will be too similar. … &This is mostly in Harry's mind, but more action stuff later.**_

_**This is set after Harry's second year a Hogwarts. I just felt that was the right setting, and I might be able to incorporate some Marge later. Warning, there will be abuse.**_

_**Disclaimer : I own nothing :'( , JK's not throwing me any of her millions, I just write for funsies! **_

Harry was so tired. Life at the Dursley's was, without a shadow of a doubt, a horrendously draining time. It took all his energy to heave the saw back and forth, beads of sweat dripping down his furrowed brow. Harry was unable to even muster the energy to wipe them away. He knew Uncle Vernon well enough to ascertain that had no real desire to have the tree cut down, well unless you count wanting to add to Harry's degradingly long list of chores. He felt his arms sag under the saws sheer weight, how was he supposed to heave this thing around – it was half his size! Especially after last night's thrashing.

He thought he'd be used to it by now, but when does anyone ever get used to pain like that.

As if on cue one of the many dark welts that were etched onto Harry's back gave an involuntary spasm of agony. He could feel the sweat, clinging to his oversized t-shirt dripping into the bloodied abrasions in his skin. He let out a rare hiss of pain; last night had been pretty bad, even for Uncle Vernon. It had been 2 weeks, he had 4 more and Harry was not sure he could take it much longer.

No matter how many times a dog gets beaten it still wipers. That stray thought enraged Harry, was that what he referring to himself as now; nothing better than a beaten animal.

No, Harry thought exhaling, the Dursley's might see his as almost inhuman but he still had one little piece of his dignity left. That no one in the 'real world' knew about what happened here. And by that he meant the wizarding world. The place where he had people that tolerated him, better than that he had friends. Actual living, breathing friends. People admired him, and though it may seem silly and naïve, he liked it. Not the superficial excitement that most people get from admiration, no, it was the reverence and hope that he seemed to bring to people.

A part of him knew it was embarrassment that stopped him from telling Ron and Hermione, imagine that - the boy who lived couldn't ward off a few measly muggles. But it's not like he could do magic, after the dobby incident he couldn't think of anything worst than not being able to return to the reprieve and safety of Hogwarts. Harry didn't want to see people faces if they found oout; whether it was pity or disgust, never.

It had been scalded into his mind, sometimes literally, that he brought nothing but pain and unhappiness, but some people in the wizarding world seemed to have actual pleasure in talking to him. No, he chastised himself, there weren't pleased to talk to him, just what he represented. It was that look that people sometimes had when regarding him like he was some beacon of hope, the light to Voldermort's dark. That worried him.

And all because of some seemingly impossible accident when he was a baby! The whole Voldermort thing, Harry snorted mid-thought in derision at his wording; He made it sound like pest control not the murderous intent of a powerful dark wizard. But what he was afraid of most about Voldermort wasn't the fact that he might eventually kill him, although that was obviously a cause for concern. It was the niggling feeling that he was going to have to one day kill Voldermort.

It sounds ridiculous he pondered, whilst continuing with extreme difficulty to saw, that man killed his parents; he was an awful, evil person. Yet the thought of killing him was horrifying, who was he to decide who lives and who dies. Arrogance, professor Snape would call it, Harry mused whilst almost smiling. But he was deadly serious. What if killing him would protect hundreds of others though? Deep down he knew that he was no killer. It all boiled down in mind to this one look. The look that Vernon has when choking him; the spit flecking out the corners of his mouth with the skin straining over his intense fury. His hatred was all consuming, sometimes Harry was sure was going to kill him. Then he'd just stop.

Then there was Dudley, that look he was when crushing small animals or beating Harry, for his own pleasure in brutality. That repugnantly gleeful smile as he would commit horrendous acts. No matter the repercussions Harry would always attempt to stop him. But worse was Aunt Petunia, he had seen this one look, that seemed to entirely embody murder to him.

They had been plagued for weeks with a mouse, stealing a nibble here a nibble there. Of course Harry had initially been blamed, she had held his head in the sink under the water for minutes. As he writhed unable to breath, pure terror engulfing him she just stood determined her grip vice like and unrelenting. He was only 7 or 8 at the time. She had pulled him out the split second before he lost consciousness and simply left him on the floor, in a choking sobbing mess. Then they both heard the pang of a mouse trap. All Pentunia said was 'oh, it was a mouse'. No apology, barely even an acknowledgement, not that Harry had ever expected either.

When she pulled out the mouse it was still half alive, its head trapped between the metal as its small legs furiously scrabbled. It was a pitiful creature, all skin and bone, no wonder it had be stealing food. Although the mouse trap unsettled him somewhat, it was what she did next which was far worse. She methodically broke each one of the mouse's legs with painstakingly slow precision with her bony, unforgiving fingers. The mouse squeaked where riddled with such terror it reminded Harry of agonised screams, and it chilled him to the core. He wanted to look away or protest but was fixated with horror. Then she took a small chuck of cheese and placed it just beyond the mouse's reach.

It was frantic, catatonic, it had no idea what was going on but instinct over threw and its scrabbles aimed somewhat towards the food. It was futile however, it was too far and the metal had now nearly crushed the mouse's throat. With one last act of merciless aggression Petunia used her forefinger to crush its skull. Throughout this whole atrocity Harry could see her face emblazoned onto his mind. Her indifference, there was no emotion there, just cold calculation and it was, for some reason, worse than all the fury in the world.

She then turned to Harry and said something to him he would never forget, something that truly hurt as much as the physical reprimands; _"You mean as little to me as this mouse, never forget that"._

Petunia's face remained the same face when attacking a particularly stubborn stain as she had torturing that creature. It was so wrong. Harry shivered, with cold or the remnants of an old memory he was unsure, but he had to refocus of the task at hand.

He subconsciously rubbed his hands over his face; he was so exhausted that the phrase, dead on his feet barely covered it. But completion of his chores was non-optional, that he most definitely knew. He began work on the tree, nearly 2/3 of the way through it he knew he'd have to ignore the constant twinges of his back. Let alone the dull ache of his other injuries. He subconsciously surveyed himself over to gather the full extent of his injuries.

His back and torso had taken the full brunt, luckily the bruises despite their throbbing seemed mostly superficial. Definitely a black eye, and some bruising to the face, could be worse. Harry could feel the fattening of his lip and ran his tongue over the dry chapped lip where he found the unmistakable sign on a slip. Well that's just great, bloody brilliant! Apart from some obvious hand shape bruises on his wrist and scratches on his body (Vernon often liked to knock him around the room, literally) it seemed the welts were the only thing causing** extreme** discomfort. There had to be at least 40 this time, Vernon should watch out, he was getting close to reaching his record Harry thought bitterly.

He again realised that he had been letting his thoughts run away with him, and he needed to finish this last bloody chore. To his surprise the subconscious venting had allowed time for his body to work mechanically uninhibited by his mind, he'd actually finished the tree. But by now his whole body was throbbing, spasms of pain riddled his back. He felt the saw slip from his hands and clatter to the floor, his vision was going blurry and despite his tiredness attempting to mask it; there was the definite gnawing of hunger.

But he had to ignore it, just for a moment, just so he could haul the tree to its allocated place and go inside. Then there would be the humiliating process Pentunia might demand he perform, or food would be denied. She did it when she felt extra malevolent. He would be forced to kneel on the floor by her legs; head bowed in some ridiculous mantra of subservience and beg her for food. If she saw fit to allow it some scraps would be tossed to the floor where he must eat it without cutlery. When he was younger he had just accepted it, without word or question, the way the Dursley's wanted.

He knew that he had imposed on them for all these years and been a horrifying burden but surely he didn't deserve this. Did he? It was just so humiliating that he often considered refusing. But hunger, like always would get the better of him. He was already aware that tonight was not to be the night where this miraculous act of defiance sprung forth. So with the weary pained walk of someone who had the weight of the world on his shoulders Harry made it towards the patio doors, not before a voice halted him in his tracks.

"_Potter"_ the voice drawled with the unmistakable barely concealed contempt of Severus Snape. But what was he doing here, now, in the back garden of his bleeding' aunt and uncle's.

"_Err Professor"_ he said unsure to whether he was hallucinating. He remembered reading about times of extreme hunger, exhaustion and thirst people could have hallucinations.

But then they were always hallucinations of things people wanted, he hadn't been deprived in nasty slime balls he mused smiling to himself.

"_Something amuse you Potter"_ Snape said barely visible in the soft glow of the moonlight.

"_No sir, but you're in my garden"_ Harry said seemingly unable to verbalise the utter shock he was experience. Professor Snape was in his garden, here now, in the muggle world on his freshly mown grass! What was happening?

"_Always observant weren't you Potter, a real bright spark"_ Severus said with a scathing sneer rubbing his hands to attempt to bring some warmth into them. Such a normal act that it startled Harry, not that he'd noticed the cold, he was so sweaty he was probably emanating heat.

"_You know what I meant"_ Harry said defiantly his eyes boring into Snape's.

If looks could kill Harry thought, almost smiling, but he thought the better of it this time.

"_Don't take that tone with me"_ snapped Snape his voice loud but nowhere nearing a shout, but still able to hold a great deal of venom,

Harry was pretty sure that Snape wanted to hit him right there and this to Harry's embarrassment startled him a little. And to make matters worse Snape had obviously noticed that Harry had been startled, so much for masking things from the 'real world'. Which was now, much to Harry's disdain, colliding with this one.

"_We'll let that one slide, you know how to address me I presume"_ Snape said in a carefully controlled voice.

"_Yes Sir" _Harry said softly, all the determination and vigour draining quite rapidly by his minds reminder that he was, in laments terms, beyond knackered_. _

"_I presume you were attempting to ask me what I was doing here" _Snape prompted icily with obvious condescension.

Harry simply nodded too tired at the present to voice a reply.

"_Well Mr Potter, there has been a complicated incident and on Dumbledore's orders, despite my adamant protesting.." _he hesitated evidently agitated, whatever it was it wasn't good_. "I am, for my own safety, to stay with you for the summer"._

The first coherent thought Harry could pull from the mess that was his mind was that this summer was not going to be one he would forget in a hurry.

**Well here's the first chapter. I really would like to continue so please review, it would make my day. I was hoping to Snape POV next chapter. I could really see myself getting into this fic, so please review. **

**The Dursleys are horrible human beings aren't they! And whether you agree with mousetraps or not that is neither here nor there in this (FYI -I don't), but it was only used to show Pentunia's brutality.**

**Thank you for reading . I broke my leg and I'm sitting here in pain, a review would make me so happy !**


	2. Chapter 2

**Thankyou to those who reviewed it made my day! I noticed I made some minor typo's in the last, but I'll be extra careful in this one! R& R , no slash btw **

**I would hint at where this was going if I had any idea, probably a Severus saves Harry but I might change my mind! But I am determined to make it not too generic . Maybe Manipulative Dumbledore soon, but I don't know if I've got the heart :L**

**Previous Chapter end- **

"_Well Mr Potter, there has been a complicated incident and on Dumbledore's orders, despite my adamant protesting..." he hesitated evidently agitated; whatever it was it wasn't good. "I am, for my own safety, to stay with you for the summer"._

_The first coherent thought Harry could pull from the mess that was his mind was that this summer was not going to be one he would forget in a hurry._

**A few minutes earlier **

Severus felt the familiar discomfort of apparition as he materialised at the end of Privet drive but that was nothing compared to the arduous task of bunking with Potter all summer. He doubted even his precious sidekick Weasley could deal with that task. If that ridiculous bumbling ministry worker hadn't run to the minister saying he'd seen Severus crutiatus a muggle whilst in death eater garb he wouldn't be standing in this mundane suburban street. To be fair, he had been performing the crutiatus on a squib, but only to keep up the pretence of his death eater double cross. And the minister knew that!

It's not like he enjoyed it watching that innocent man writhe on the floor, but the fury that would have emanated from a true death eater would have caused a much greater agony. So whilst Dumbledore insisted he sort everything out; the only place, according to the headmaster, where death eaters and ministry workers would be unable to penetrate was the home of Harry Bloody Potter.

He suddenly felt a surge of guilt; he was condemning the blood bond, and by extent Lily's sacrifice. If he thought about it that way then, perhaps it could be tolerated. Yes, it was not Potter shielding him but Lily, beautiful Lily who had defended him from bullies and his father alike. He could still visualise her as if she stood before him, her flaming hair that cascaded down her back, her flawless porcelain skin that would flush a stunning shade of pink in cold and embarrassment, her button nose that would wrinkle in agitation, her mouth; so perfectly sculpted with a smile that could melt anyone's heart. No, now was not the time to reminisce.

Now was the time for Potter, a carbon copy of his father. The same arrogance and deluded self worth, there was no Lily Evans in Potter, none at all. Except perhaps….

The eyes, those hauntingly perceptive green eyes so full of sincerity and love. NO! No, Potter did not have Lily's eyes, just the colour. Nothing more.

He realised that his dwelling had lead him to Potter's back garden. How well kept it was , observed Severus begrudgingly, nothing like Potter - the messy ragamuffin. Snape paused, a smile twitching on the corner of his lips. Had he just used the word ragamuffin in all seriousness? He quickly stifled the smile, he didn't want Potter to be under any delusion that he was pleased to see him.

It was then he noticed the stooped figure in the back yard, a poster for a dejected stance, stooped and almost heaving himself along, which was a little bizarre. Noticing the chopped wood, but at this time of the evening, in this weather? The stepped into a lighter area to try and decipher who this scruffy figure was, drowning in oversized clothes. Quite out of place in the home of Pentunia 'up her own arse' Dursley.

Then he recognised the tawny messy hair that he had often come to loathe in his childhood years, the hair of James Potter, much differing from his own jet black tendrils. Was he really having hair jealousy? After all these years. Pull yourself together Severus , he reprimanded himself, you're not 13 anymore. He wanted to see the look of surprise and horror on Potter's face, when he called out his name.

It was a little wrong, but Snape kind of enjoyed watching Potter Juniors facial expressions when he was hurt, or scared. It almost felt as he was forcing James to react in that way. Seeing someone he hated experience the emotions he had always inflicted was borderline enjoyable.

"_Potter"_ he drawled the anger unintentionally seeping into his voice a little more that he had intended. The light was dim, but he could see the outline of Potters head snap round a look of incredulity tinged with terror. Bingo! He'd never seen James with that face before.

Potter seemed to be scrabbling with the concept that he, Severus Snape, was standing in his garden amidst his home. Probably disgusted too, having someone like him intrude on the precious time of Harry Potter.

"_Err Professor"_ Idiot boy, can't form a simple sentence, none of Lily's intelligence was passed on here evidently. Then Potter had the utter audacity and cheek to grin arrogantly at him, a gormless look that would have done Weasley proud.

"_Something amuse you Potter"_ he could almost feel anger surging forward, why did he have to look so much like James. Was it simply to taunt him?

_No sir, but you're in my garden". _Sohe has a knack for stating the obvious, brilliant._ "Always observant weren't you Potter, a real bright spark" _He liked to sneer, it seemed to agitate Potter the most, the condescension. God, it was cold out here.

I was barely aware of what Potter said next, just his tone, so bloody James Potter. Never once did he speak to him in anything but disdain or anger, not once. I don't have to stand for that anymore.

"_Don't take that tone with me_". He saw Potter flinch, startled, and he had to admit it, even he was surprised by the sheer amount of venom that had seeped into that. The boy seemed so startled to the point that even Severus was a little surprised. It was then that he started to eye Potter more critically, despite the dim light he could quite easily tell the boy wasn't looking his best; the gaunt cheeks and the awkward discomfort. 'Ok, Severus', Snape instructed to himself, play nicely.

"_We'll let that one slide, you know how to address me I presume"_ he attempted to speak in a carefully controlled voice.

He expected an angry retort, a scathing remark and look of pure incontrovertible disdain but received a seemingly genuine "Yes sir" , how bizarre

Potter looked so tired, maybe he was ill. Not that he gave a shit really, just didn't want to be crashing with some snotty nosed brat, that'd be disgusting.

"_I presume you were attempting to ask me what I was doing here" _Snape decided to prompt icily with obvious condescension. He was trying to find equilibrium between full-out anger and the usual praising tones that Potter gained from all other adults.

How to word it, the ministry are twats? I made a mistake? Dumbledore's a sentimental old fool who probably wants us to 'bond'? They all sound so idiotic …

"_Well Mr Potter, there has been a complicated incident and on Dumbledore's orders, despite my adamant protesting.." _he hesitated evidently agitated, whatever it was it wasn't good_. "I am, for my own safety, to stay with you for the summer'_

The boys looked almost comical, his mouth is agape, a gormless look planted quite firmly on his face. He stood there for some moments just looking at me with confusion until he looked like he was teetering on the edge of speak. This should be interesting, what's spoilt Potter going to do; cry, scream, stamp his feet…

"My relatives can't find out though, you'll have to borrow my invisibility cloak, unless you have one"

Ok, that wasn't expected. It was my turn to look gormless now. I few moments passed until I realised it was my turn to speak.

"I'll have borrow yours, mine's back at Snape M-, well its at home. I understand about the relative situation, Petunia's such a tolerant kind hearted person" Severus spoke scathingly his voice dripping with sarcasm.

He could see Potter smile, apparently Petunia wasn't his favourite person either. Maybe she hadn't brought him the new bloody toy he wanted. Now he's smiling, god, I don't want to bond with him. Quick, say something else.

"Are you going to let me in then Potter" he barked, glad to see the amusement drain from Harry's face.

"Y-yes" Potter stammered hastily dragging his seemingly reluctant body towards the patio door, where the stupid muggle light contraption flipped on.

Severus didn't gasp, he had to much self control for that. But a sharp inhalation was the only evidence to the outside world that something was amiss. Potter was a mess, he had a black eye and bruising marring his dangerously gaunt cheeks and a jaggedly painful looking split lip. His clothes were beyond dreadful, worse than that awful smock Severus had used to wear. So large it simply drowned him.

"_It's alright professor, the muggles are in bed_" he seemed to think that Severus shocked expression was fear of alerting stupid muggles. It wasn't concern, just shock at what the wizarding world would do if they ever saw their hero in such a state. Each word he had spoken came out like a painful gasp, it was genuinely, and Severus hated to admit this, an awful sight.

"_My god Potter, what happened?" _Snape asked in hushed tones, as they made their way quietly through the creepily pristine house towards the stairs.

"_Fight with my cousin, a petty argument"_ Potter muttered heaving himself with some difficulty up the stairs.

Trust Potter to incite his relatives who had put a roof over his head, all the same he must be in a lot of pain. DOES NOT MATTER, STUPID JA-, he was about to call him James. But this was a different boy… a boy who happened to have 5 deadbolts on his door and a cat flap. What the hell?

Stupid ending, I'm sorry I haven't uploaded in ages :(, laptop troubles. And sorry this is a bit poo ;), but'll get better. Review :D

Much love! X


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